


You Should Talk to Him

by asleepyboy



Series: He Probably Doesn't [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Friends to Lovers, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jealous Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29448933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asleepyboy/pseuds/asleepyboy
Summary: A few awkward days after the night in the woods, Jaskier and Geralt make it into town. Jealousy is new for Geralt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: He Probably Doesn't [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163087
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	You Should Talk to Him

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2! Read part 1 "An Offer" for context - (No violence, some swears)

-Geralt-

I watched him stroll between the tables, playing some honeyed melody, singing something about a mountain or a dragon or a king. The dozen or so people gathered in the low lit room hummed and sang with him. He was smiling so brightly I couldn't help the small grin that spread across my face. The poetry or artistry or whatever he called it was lost on me, but I could see how much he loved what he did. He'd get this energy about him - when he was performing, he came alive. He created something almost tangible when he gathered people together like that. It was hard not to be pulled in. 

I returned to my drink. Maybe he'd make enough in tips tonight to pay for another night in the inn. 

-Jaskier-

The crowd was small, but they were kind. I played for an hour or so - they offered a few hearty rounds of applause considering the number of them, and a handful or two of coin. 

It was good to be in a town again. It had been far too long since I had last slept in a bed, not to mention bathed. And being around people who didn't have an aversion to conversation was a welcome change of pace. 

Geralt had taken up a post in the corner of the room, sipping from a mug of something. I tried not to feel his eyes on me as I leaned against the bar talking with the barmaid after I’d played my set. We had been exchanging stories for the past few minutes. She was telling me about other musicians and performers who had passed through - particularly the worst of them. I offered a few embarrassing stories of my own. Her laugh was sweet, and she seemed eager to talk and listen. It was so good to finally talk to someone again. 

Since that night in the woods I’d hardly gotten anything out of Geralt. He just acted as if nothing had ever happened. It had been three days of stiff, one-word answers and sparse eye contact. I hadn't found a way to broach the subject, and he seemed generally disinterested in discussing it at all, so we hadn't. I couldn't determine what exactly caused the sinking feeling I got when I considered bringing it up. I was certainly confused, but I couldn't tell if I was angry at him or just afraid I had done something wrong. Most likely both. But he was brooding in the corner, and I was laughing with the pretty barmaid, so I supposed for now it didn't matter. 

Her name was Nina. Her skin was the color of rich soil - her dark coiled hair shorn nearly to her scalp. There was something intriguing about her angular face that made me want to make her laugh. She was witty in a way that made talking to her feel like a dance. I found myself smiling after her when she swept around the room refilling tankards.

The room slowly emptied over the next hour or so, until our conversation was the only sound to be heard over the crackling of the hearth. I finished the last of my drink and threw out something about needing to get some sleep. 

"Thank you for the drinks - and the conversation. How much do I owe you?" I asked. 

"Oh, nothing." She said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Are you sure?" 

"I don't get to leave here often, it's always good to hear how the rest of the world is doing. You've paid in stories and good company." She said. 

"I- thank you."

"Of course. You and your friend staying here tonight?" 

"Yes- um," I looked around the room. I realized I hadn't seen him leave. The corner he was sitting in was now empty. 

"Does he always look at you like that?" she asked. 

I turned back toward her, "Like what?" 

She gave a small, knowing laugh. After a moment she said, "You should talk to him." 

I already knew, but I had to ask, "What do you mean?”

“Well he was clearly pissed about  _ something _ . And silent broody types like him typically need some persuading when it comes to communication.”

“That's not as easy as you’d think-"

"Maybe not,” she interrupted, “But you're easy to talk to, so maybe it'll balance out." She pushed away from where she had been leaning on the bar and took a broom from the corner. For a moment, she just swept the floor silently. 

With her back to me, she said quietly, "I don't know what's between the two of you, but he's lucky to have you.”

"I- well. No- He doesn't  _ have _ me- We're not  _ together, _ "

Another knowing laugh, "Someone should tell him that." She turned to face me now. She smirked as she stepped closer to me. She pointed the broom handle at my chest, almost scoldingly. 

"I would've invited you up to my room an hour ago if he hadn't been staring daggers at the both of us from that corner all night." She said. 

"Oh. I didn't think- I mean. You should've- We could, if you still-" 

“And you expect me to believe you would've waited this long to invite  _ me  _ upstairs if you had ever  _ actually _ intended to?” She interrupted my stammering, poking at my chest with the broomstick. “No. You are too sweet for me to let you fuck that up. Talk to him." She smiled before turning away, sweeping again. After a moment she said, "Goodnight, Jaskier." 

For a moment I just stood, watching her sweep, grasping for something to say, but words failed me. I tried not to feel the sting of the odd rejection or the growing redness on my face.

“Goodnight Nina," I said. I turned toward the stairs and made my way to our room. 

She was right, I should just talk to him. He was probably asleep, but I was sure I'd wake him no matter how quiet I was anyway.

I turned the key as quietly as I could, and swung the door into the darkened room. I closed it behind me, expecting to see him shoot up, woken from his sleep but I was met with an empty room. Both beds sat empty on the opposing walls of the small chamber, and our packs still sat in the center of the room, untouched. 

-Geralt-

My fingers were numb. It was colder outside than I had expected. My back had started to ache from sitting on the ground and I had lost track of the time. At least it was quiet here. 

I walked out when he had leaned across the bar to whisper something to her that sent them both into a fit of laughter. Initially, all I wanted was to clear my head of the dull roar that grew whenever his gaze followed her around the room. But as time went on I found it harder and harder to walk back toward the entrance. Eventually I sat against the side of the building and watched as the small crowd slowly sifted out through the doors. 

I didn't want to know if he had gone to bed alone or not. I didn't want to find out. So there I sat. 

I still hadn't found a way to explain that night. I couldn't find a way to bring it up, let alone justify it. And I didn't understand it well enough to tell him. It existed in my head as a knot of embarrassing truths that I couldn't untangle well enough to explain. I still couldn't really look at him without imagining what I might've done if we hadn't been interrupted. And all of it was further complicated by whatever it was that came over me when I saw him flirting with the barmaid. 

I tipped my head back against the wall of the inn and blew out a breath. If he hadn't come looking for me by now, he was probably busy with her. Maybe this was good - maybe I just needed time away from him to clear my head. If he was occupied with someone else, maybe I could get over whatever this was. Maybe I wouldn't have to keep worrying about losing him.

There were parts of it that I knew. I understood what brought my gaze to his mouth and made my hands want to wander. There was nothing foreign about wanting him like that. When I met him, he smiled at me and I had tucked away the feeling, knowing that it wasn't going to mean anything unless he wanted it to. I dealt with it the same way I dealt with the rest of them.

Maybe I hoped one day he’d get cocky enough to ask, or suggest something, but he hadn't, not seriously anyway. So I didn't. 

But when he looked at me that night- I don't know what came over me. Something came loose. He was holding my hand and looking at me like he understood. And I wanted to kiss him, and I did.

I thought he’d laugh or slap me or something- anything other than what he did. I didn't know what to think. I still didn’t.

I knew what it meant to look at him and let my mind wander, but I didn't know what it meant to watch him dance around our camp and find myself grinning. I didn't know why I wanted to listen to him hum as he trailed behind me on the road. And I didn't understand the hollow feeling I got tonight when he seemed to forget me in the corner of the inn. He hadn't promised me anything, and I couldn't understand why it felt like he had. 

-Jaskier-

When I came back down the stairs, Nina was gone. The great room of the inn was empty and dark. Panic started to settle in my stomach - I pushed open the doors out into the dark, walking quickly to the small pen at the back of the building, praying to find Roach still there. 

My eyes adjusted slowly, but eventually I could make out the glint of her chestnut fur in the watery moonlight. She huffed at me. I let out a sigh. He was still here.

"Hello?" I called quietly, "Geralt?" I waited, listening. Nothing.

But as I turned to head back inside I saw a silhouette begin to duck around the corner. 

"Geralt?" The shape froze. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"I'm fine," He called over his shoulder, heading back toward the front of the building.

“What’s wrong? How long have you been out here?” I took a few hurried steps toward him, trying to catch up. 

“I just needed some air.” He walked faster. 

"You're a bad liar." 

He said nothing.

“Why are you avoiding me, Geralt?” 

He just kept walking. As we rounded the corner to the front of the inn, I managed to grab a hold of his arm. “Geralt-” He pulled it roughly from my grasp and pushed through the front doors.

"Can you please just  _ talk _ to me?" I could feel my temper beginning to rise. He wordlessly stalked up the stairs. I watched him stride down the hallway and unlock the door to our room. I followed close behind.

"You can't even look at me?"

Still, nothing. 

"You can't look at me unless you're brooding in the corner, scaring off the woman I'm talking to? Is that it?" There was more venom in my voice than I had anticipated, but he still hadn’t looked at me. 

He stood in the center of the room with his back to me. I could see his hands beginning to ball into fists, his shoulders tensing, but I didn't care. 

"So you can't look at me, you can't even  _ speak _ to me, and now, what? You're jealous?" 

Still, silence. 

"Is that what this is?”

“Shut up, Jaskier.” He said quietly.

I knew I was treading on dangerous ground. I knew, and I didn’t care. I loosed a sour laugh. 

“Were you afraid I was going to fuck her, Geralt?” He still said nothing. 

“I would have! She was going to invite me upstairs but she didn't because the  _ big scary witcher _ was glaring at her!"

"Shut  _ up _ -" He spat. 

"Your little plaything was too busy with someone else so you went to pout outside? Poor Geralt had to go cry to his horse-" 

Faster than I could register, he whirled toward me. The back of my head hit the door hard as he pinned me to it with a broad hand to my chest. It slammed shut - my ears rang from the sound and the impact of the wood to my skull. 

He held my stare for a moment as he kept me there; his chest heaved with uneven breaths. His face twisted with a handful of emotions - blind rage blended into grief, then into something like shame. 

He pulled his hand from my chest and crossed the room. He dropped to the floor, leaning against one of the beds with a tight sigh. 

For a moment I just stood there blinking, stunned into silence. 

"Why did you leave?" My voice was hollow.

He shut his eyes tightly and rubbed at his face. 

"Because you were flirting with the fucking barmaid,” he snapped, “And I didn't want to be around when you brought her upstairs.”

He kicked off his boots and started shrugging off layers of his armor, tossing them in a pile - like he needed something to fill the silence.

I stepped away from the door and sat across from him on the opposite bed. For a long time, I silently watched him undoing the endless buckles and ties that held on the layers and layers of leather. It was strange to see him like this. He almost looked small - as small as he could anyway, sitting on the floor, stripped of his armor and his usual looming presence. 

The true shape of him became clear as he pulled away each piece. It was hard not to stare at the thickly corded muscle of his arms, the strong column of his neck, the way his broad chest expanded with each of his breaths- Shit. I tried to remember that I was angry at him. 

I hadn't yet articulated any of the confusion that had filled my head since that night. Now it threatened to overflow. Eloquence escaped me, but I needed to know.

"Why.. why do you care? I didn't think that mattered to you.” I managed. 

He sighed, his eyes meeting mine before darting back to the floor. His hands stilled for a moment as he seemed to struggle to find the words. 

" _ You _ .. matter to me, Jaskier." 

I prayed he didn’t hear my heart skip in my chest at that. He quickly returned to fiddling with some buckle. 

"Why did you-? In the woods.. what.. was that?" I hated the way my voice quavered over the broken question.

He tossed the last piece of his armor atop the pile that had accumulated on the floor between us. He tucked his legs beneath him and went silent for a long time, his eyes trained on the floor. 

“I don’t know.” He said finally.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” I blurted. 

“I mean I don’t know,” He snapped.

“Why have you been ignoring me? What did I do?”

“You’re distracting.” He said flatly.

“I’m- What?”

“You’re  _ distracting _ .” He said, “I can usually just ignore it but I can’t.. focus around you anymore. And if I can’t focus I can’t keep us safe.” 

He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed at the back of his neck. He almost seemed.. embarrassed? He wouldn't be. He never was. Then again, he had never admitted to  _ feeling  _ anything before. 

“Ignore what?” I asked. I leaned down toward him, trying to get him to meet my eyes. 

If I was honest with myself, I knew. The signs were clear, however emotionally stunted he was. Of course, I knew, but I hadn't let myself believe it yet. I needed to hear it from him. I needed him to confirm it, to make it real. 

He struggled for another moment. 

“You.” He muttered, vaguely gesturing toward me, still not meeting my gaze. 

A smile began to tug at the corners of my mouth. It was true. It was true and he was going to admit it. I needed to hear him say it.

“So you’ve been avoiding me for three days because I’m ‘distracting’?” 

Another sigh. “Yes.” He said, “I didn’t know how to explain it. Not completely. I still don’t - not exactly.”

I couldn’t contain the odd triumph I felt. I had bested him. He was an awkward nervous mess compared to his typical air of stoicism, and it was because of  _ me _ . A giddy laugh threatened to spill from me. 

“Tell me Geralt, how am I  _ distracting _ ?” I crooned. 

He looked up then, marking the smug grin on my face. He narrowed his eyes at me. 

“Don’t patronize me, bard.” 

“No no no!” I said, throwing up my hands in a mocking surrender, “Not patronizing. Not at all! I’m just- flattered honestly. I just.. I didn’t think I was exactly..  _ your type _ .” I said. 

“And what do you think ‘my type’ is?” He asked. 

“Well, now I’m not sure. I assumed you preferred.. women? Beautiful, scary, magic sorcerer-y women? Or, y’know the kind you.. pay for?” 

He laughed. 

“I prefer  _ people  _ who are brave or stupid enough to invite a witcher into their bed.” He said. 

“Hm,” I said, propping my chin on a hand, “And which of the two did you think me to be?” His expression softened.

“Neither.” He said quietly. “I didn't think you’d want to.”

I stifled my incredulous laugh. 

“Why not?” I tried and failed to filter the disbelief from my voice. “Geralt, I’ve been with men before, you-” 

“I know you've been with men you idiot-” He interrupted loudly. He rubbed at his face again. “I  _ meant  _ that I didn't think you’d want  _ me _ .”

I stopped myself from listing every wandering thought about him that had crossed my mind since I met him. Every daydream, every sketch, every lyric that I’d never sing. I just stared at him. Apparently the confusion was written plainly on my face, as he clarified, 

“A witcher? Forgive me for assuming you didn't want to fuck a mutant monster hunter, it's typically a safe bet.” 

He absently folded his arms across his chest. I wanted to keep poking at him, but the bitterness in his voice and way he averted his gaze tugged at something within me. I shifted off of the edge of the bed onto the floor, pushing the pile of his armor aside, and folded my legs beneath me; my knees almost touched his. 

“First of all,” I said frankly, “You’re wrong.” He looked up. “You and I both know that I am most  _ definitely _ stupid enough to invite you to bed.”

He huffed a small laugh at that. 

“Had I known you were into men, I probably would have a long time ago.” I mused. The sincerity of the words hit me once they hung in the air between us. 

“More importantly though,” I added quickly, “If you were so convinced that I didn't want you, why did you kiss me?”

He openly looked away from me then. I watched his mouth twist as he tried to form the words.

I honestly tried to stop smirking at him, but I couldn't. I’d never seen him this flustered. The longer he sat, at a loss for words, unable to meet my eyes, the greater my ego grew. I almost felt guilty for toying with him, but fuck if it wasn’t fun.

Finally he spoke,

“I don’t know.. You were holding my hand and- And you looked at me like-” His words stopped abruptly when my fingers touched his chin, pulling his gaze back toward me. The look on his face was  _ priceless _ . God, he was cute when he blushed. 

“Stop that.” He snapped, batting my hand away. I took his hand before he could tuck it away again, and held it between us. Frustration flared in his eyes, but he didn’t pull it away.

“What? Am I making you nervous?” I crooned. I was openly grinning at him now.

“I’m not- You’re- No.” He stammered, “What are you doing?”

“Making you nervous,” I said sweetly, idly toying with his fingers. “Or ‘being distracting’ if that’s what you want to call it.” 

“That’s not- that’s not what I meant,” He grumbled. I could see the frustration building in him, his face flushing a deeper red. 

“No? Then by all means, tell me! What  _ did _ you mean, Geralt?” I asked, blinking at him innocently. 

-Geralt-

I wanted to throttle him. This was exactly why I didn't want to tell him. I knew it would just go straight to his head. I wanted to smack that smug little grin off of his stupid face. 

I was still reeling from when he grabbed my chin and made me look at him. If he had been anyone else I would've broken his wrist. It was so small and simple, I didn't know why it made my pulse jump like that. He caught me off guard. Again. And he knew it and he was  _ so  _ proud of himself for it. 

He hadn't let go of my hand, and as we were talking he had been inching closer and closer to me. I was acutely aware of every inch between us. He was still sitting there, with his eyebrows raised and a smirk, waiting for me to answer him. Waiting for me to tell him what I found so distracting about him. 

There was plenty to tell, but I hated the thought of giving him the satisfaction of admitting it. I hated it, but he was right. And he was fucking with me because he knew it too. 

I didn't want to admit how badly I wanted him. I wanted to know what his breath felt like on my lips, I wanted more than anything to touch him, to memorize the curves and planes of his body, to finally feel his skin. It made me feel weak to want him this badly, but fuck it, I did. And maybe he was being an obnoxious little shit about it, but he seemed to want me too.

-Jaskier-

For a moment he glared at me, and then with a sigh, dropped my gaze again. He went quiet for a long time.

He shifted his hand in my grasp, and laced his fingers through mine. I watched his eyes darting across the ground, as he took in a long breath. 

When he looked up, there was an earnestness on his face that made my heart begin to race. The bare longing in his eyes startled me. I quickly came tumbling down from my short-lived ego trip.

“Can I show you?” His voice was a low rasp.

“Show me what?” 

“How distracting you are.” He replied. He leaned closer to me, the tip of his nose nearly grazed mine as his gaze fell to my lips. My breath hitched in my throat. I felt my mouth open and close and open again, searching for something, anything to say. 

“Yes, please.” I breathed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Someone please give me an excuse to write the next scene I just need to feel justified writing smut


End file.
